Something More
by fluggerbutter
Summary: Had someone told him, that day in Paris, that he would eventually come to fall in love with the little blonde twelve-year-old the next table over being admired by his precious charge, he would have laughed. And, after a good bout of such laughing, he would have beaten them up.


He can pinpoint the exact moment when she became something _more. _

She was curled up on the couch that faced the fireplace, glasses resting upon her head of golden curls, nightgown cut above bare knees and bare feet. Her blue eyes reflected the red of the darting flames but they were unfocused, far away; she was distracted.

He sat down beside her holding two mugs of hot chocolate, and said—something. He cannot recall precisely what. But she laughed, a bright and quiet laugh, and came back to the world, and he ignored it at the time but he remembers that it made his heart hurt in a way that it had not in a very long time. A good way.

She took one mug from him and they sat the rest of the evening in warm silence, just close enough together that each of them could feel the other's presence.

* * *

Had someone told him, that day in Paris, that he would eventually come to fall in love with the little blonde twelve-year-old the next table over being admired by his precious charge, he would have laughed. And, after a good bout of such laughing, he would have beaten them up.

Had someone said the same to her, she would have gone very pale, then very red, and then exploded at them in violent French and have them kicked out of the country somehow.

But no one could have told them, either of them. No one could have expected something this unlikely; even now, the only one who knows still finds it an impossibility and comes to his bodyguard on a weekly basis to reassure himself that he has not made it up. As for Butler, when he is away from her, he finds it difficult to believe it himself.

And when they are together, there is not a shred of doubt.

* * *

One day, the both of them are in the kitchen, helping Angeline cook dinner.

"So, Madame Fowl," Minerva says, as she tastes the soup he has on the stove and adds two dashes of pepper because she thinks he isn't looking, "Exactly how strange does it feel, the ever-looming threat of being suddenly related to someone of an entirely different species?"

He know exactly what she is talking about the moment the words leave her mouth, but it takes Angeline a second to register. The sound of onions being chopped halts for a moment.

"Oh, you mean Holly," she says after the pause, and the chopping starts up again. "Well, it's odd, certainly, but she may as well already be a daughter to me, and she's an amazing girl, fairy or not. And she's Arty's best friend. He hasn't many _friends_, let alone best ones, as you well know, so she's special."

"I heard Trouble's still considering proposing."

Utter rubbish. She's doing this to instigate, cause a little drama. Easy for her, _she _won't be the one dealing with it if Angeline takes the bait—_he_ will, and Artemis. Perhaps this is what all-girl's school does to people, he muses, as he opens the fridge to grab some eggs.

"Yes, and you and Butler are having an affair behind everyone's backs."

Without meaning to, he slams the refrigerator door shut, every nerve suddenly tense. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Minerva spew the soup she'd been re-tasting back into the pot. So much for that.

Angeline is too busy chopping to notice their reactions—she has moved on to carrots, now.

Butler's blurry mind clears, and his heartbeat slows again. She was joking. It was a joke. Of course it was. She's just saying that the possibility of Trouble marrying Holly is about as likely as…

Minerva starts laughing.

It starts off light, giggles almost, but before long she has both her hands pressed to her mouth trying to keep her mirth contained. There is a shine of tears in her blue eyes that he knows is more from relief than amusement and he cannot help it, soon he is laughing too.

"Yes, just imagine the thought." Angeline smiles down at her chopping board. "Mad, isn't it?"

"Absolutely," Minerva says between gasps for air. She is leaning against the counter now to prevent herself from falling. "Perfectly _insane_."

His chuckles have subsided and he now just grins at her. She shakes her head, still laughing.


End file.
